


Perfect

by sedirktive (orphan_account)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Fluff, JohnDave Week, M/M, but not as gay as them, if youre allergic to things written by me that arent angsty you should not open this fic, im gay as FUCK
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 09:57:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7431359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/sedirktive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s grinning like mad as he takes your hand gently and leads you down the boardwalk to the ferris wheel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> a piece written for day 5 of JohnDave week on tumblr! ive been bad about keeping up with the days but i had to okay because i was collabing with the lovely lexi @thespacemaid

When John told you that he wants to take you down to the boardwalk to ride the ferris wheel a couple months back, you called him “a gay fuck” and “a soggy piece of sliced sourdough left out in the sun by some utter dumbass too long so mildew is probably getting comfy under the surface of its new wheaty home” to hide the fact that you were completely and entirely embarrassed by how quickly that threw you off. He laughed and called you a moron, effectively saving you from entering cardiac arrest and killing the mood.

And yet somehow when you finally go to visit him, that sneakyass motherfucker manages to take you to the pier and distract your (easily-distractible) ass with greasy finger foods galore, and overpriced carnival games (you get lucky and win him a stuffed rabbit at one of those milk bottle toss games for old time’s sake - he tells you that he hates you) just long enough for the sun to hit an angle in the sky that could only be called “just right” because of the way it dip-dyes the clouds purple and and orange. You think that it’s probably a crazy conspiracy theory because anything and everything neon lights the fuck up at that moment.

He’s grinning like mad as he takes your hand gently and leads you down the boardwalk to the ferris wheel.

Oh god.

How did you not notice that thing before.

It’s all so ‘La Vie en Rose’ that you feel like Louis Armstrong is about to bust through the floorboards beneath your feet and start crooning like shit’s about to go full Disney in this bitch with an amassed crowd of well-dressed people who all have miraculously perfect pitch and you’re considering kicking John’s ass before your face catches on fire, or you stop breathing, or your face catches on fire because you stopped breathing. Et cetera. You don’t though, mostly because of how sweet his fingers feel between yours.

As you approach, the wheel flicker flicker flashes bright colors and illuminates the surrounding crowds of people.

The two of you are ushered into your little seat compartment thing, which is all worn leather and minimal but weird food stains. You nudge your boyfriend and say that the spilled popcorn on the floor would make a great snack for later.

“Stop being a gross boogermunch for once, would you, Dave? It’s going to be fun,” he snickers as the two of you settle onto the well-loved probably pleather seats. The safety bar is lowered and latched shut with a solid click and ride lurches to life, lightly rocking the two of you as it lifts the carriage into the sky. You fidget excitedly as you stare out the window to your right, John’s hand still clasped tightly in yours. Hopefully your palm isn’t sweaty.

As you get farther and farther from the ground, the bright lights of the fair become less like bulbs and more like tiny, distant stars strung along the buildings. The air gets a little thinner and colder, so you take off your jacket and sling it over John’s shoulders. The people become smaller and less significant until they’re so far away that they may as well never have existed and you’re dangling up in the clouds with the person who matters the most to you.

It’s silent with the exception of John humming to the forlorn notes of distant carnival music. John lays his head on your shoulder and it’s so romantic you could die.

Fuck him for knowing how to push your buttons.

“This is so nice,” he says. His hair brushes gently at your neck when he speaks. “I’m so glad you let me take your ass out here.”

“Yeah. You’re a massive fucking sap though.”

“Would a massive fucking sap take you on a date just to say “I love you” and kiss you on a ferris wheel while the sun sets romantically in the background, Dave?” He lifts his head and the two of you make eye contact.

You are so _so_ close to ruining shit for yourself because of nerves.

Instead, you lean in and say “I bet so, yeah.”

Best decision of your life, really. John laughs as your mouths meet and you kiss him like it’s the first time, not the way you did when he barreled into you at the luggage check, and not the way you kissed him last night while you were wrestling on the floor of his room, but like you’d been really thinking about how you wanted this kiss to look, feel, taste.

It’s slow. It’s sweet. It’s perfect. It feels like you’re flying and maybe that’s the weightlessness of being lifted into the air on a giant metal bench, but you’re pretty sure it’s because of the way he’s leaning into you.

“I love you,” you whisper when he finally pulls away.

“That’s my line,” he whispers back.

The next kiss is also perfect.

 


End file.
